After the Gate
by Lyhr
Summary: My take on the ever so popular FMAxHP. Set in the Animeverse, after the movie Conqueror of Shamballa. Ed destroys the Gate in Germany, but gets pulled through time to the world of Harry Potter. DISCONTINUED!
1. Chapter 1

The first thing he noticed when he came to his senses was the floor. It was very close. Or he was very close to it, but either way the fact was he was flat on his face. On the floor. A rather dirty floor, one might add. It also was kind of sticky and positively reeked of blood.

The second thing he noticed was that it presumably reeked of _his_ blood.

The third thing he noticed, right before passing out again, was a pair of feet in worn out slippers.

There were three of them in the dimly lit room; the person on the floor and two rather elderly gentlemen in rather dirty robes. The taller of the two old men, the owner of the worn out slippers, kneeled besides the third, a young man in his late teens.

"Oh my," said the taller man, inspecting the young man with keen eyes.

"You can say that again, Albus," replied the other, he too now perched next to the man on the floor. "I think I'll better fetch Perenelle."

"Yes," said the other, adjusting his half-moon glasses. "That would be wise."

This time there was no floor. By the feel of the cool smooth cloth against his skin, and the softness under him, it seemed safe to assume he was in a bed. He opened his eyes slowly, as if afraid of what he might see and winced as light, even as dim as it was, hit his eyes.

"Uhh..." he lifted his left hand to shield the eyes.

"Ah, you're awake!" someone, a woman judging by the voice, exclaimed right next to him. He lifted his hand slowly to suspiciously peer at his surroundings. The owner of the voice, a rather ancient looking woman, beamed at him from the side of the bed. It took a moment for the words to register. English?

"Where am I?" he asked hoarsely, throat sore as if he'd been screaming for his life. Which, he reflected, seemed likely all things considering.

"You're at our home, dear," the woman smiled and nodded as if she'd just shared a great wisdom. He resisted an urge to roll his eyes.

"Is this England?"

"Why, of course!" the woman seemed rather surprised by the question. "Where did you think you were?"

He shrugged, and dismissed the question by closing his eyes again. So he was in England. The last thing he remembered was destroying the gate. It hadn't been easy, but he had managed to convince the soldiers to aid and he very definitely remembered setting the explosives and destroying the gate, the huge snake that used to be Envy, and the corpse of his father. After that, the next thing he knew he was laying flat on his face on a floor.

"I fixed you clothes for you," the old woman interrupted his train of thought.

"Oh. Thank you," he replied, opening his eyes again. Wait, his clothes? A quick glance down revealed a naked chest. The woman chuckled as he blushed despite himself.

"Don't worry, I kept my eyes closed," the woman consoled him with laughter in her voice. "Besides, I'm old enough to be your great-grandmother," she stopped to consider something. "Or very possibly your great-grandmother's great-grandmother."

He blinked taking the words in. The woman was had to be either senile or mad.

"Don't believe me? Well, never you mind," the woman smiled. "Oh dear, where are my manners! I haven't even introduced myself yet!"

She offered him a small and very wrinkly hand. "I am Perenelle Flamel."

He took her hand slowly in his left one and gave it an awkward shake. "I'm Edward Elric."

"Well, Mr. Elric. Would you like some breakfast?" she beamed. Edward found himself smiling back.

"Yes please."


	2. Chapter 2

Mrs. Flamel handed Edward his old clothes, miraculously as good as new, and politely, though not without a chuckle turned her back for him to slip into them. Standing up made him feel slightly dizzy, and there was something wrong with his prosthetic automail limbs, but it was good to know he actually could stand.

Walking, however, presented a problem. His left leg, the prosthetic one, wasn't responding right and the first step almost landed him on the floor again. Saved only by Mrs. Flamel grabbing him by the shoulder surprisingly quickly for such an old lady, Edward steadied himself with some difficulty.

"Oh dear," Mrs. Flamel panted. "You'd better sit back for a while. I'll go get the others to help." With that, she left the room, leaving Edward on the edge of the bed. He pulled up the sleeve covering the automail hand and inspected it carefully. It seemed fine to him, but it didn't move right. The reflexes were definitely slower than usually. For a moment he wondered if his mechanic had made some mistake with the prosthetic, but quickly dismissed that as impossible.

"It's most likely the Gate got to it…" he muttered under his breath, brows furrowed.

"The Gate, you say?" came a voice from the doorway, startling Edward. He pulled the sleeve back down quickly, though there was hardly any point in hiding the automail anymore.

There were two old men standing in the doorway. The taller, thinner one was the one who spoke. The wrinkles around his eyes told of a merry nature, but his expression was serious. The shorter of the men push his way past the other into the room.

"Come now, Albus. We can talk at breakfast," he said giving Edward a friendly smile. The other one smiled at the words.

"I suppose you are right, Nicolas," he said stepping closer to the bed. Edward just stared at them both, lost at words. What was up with their outfits? Long robes? Not to mention the taller one had a long enough beard to be tucked under his belt. The shorter one was much more moderate with his facial hair, but both of them reminded Edward vaguely of Saint Nicholas. Or fairytale wizards.

"Mr. Elric? I'm Albus Dumbledore, professor by profession, and this is our gracious host Nicolas Flamel," the taller of the men leaned forward to shake Edward's hand. "I am sorry if I seem rude to you, but one can never be quite certain with such unexpected and unusual quests as yourself. I am quite willing to admit that your entrance took me by surprise," Professor Dumbledore continued, a twinkle appearing in his eye. "Mr. Elric?"

Edward snapped out of his thoughts.

"Oh, yes. Edward Elric, nice to meet you," he managed to say while giving Dumbledore's hand a little squeeze with his left one. Nicolas Flamel? He had heard the name in Germany, while he had searched for a way back home. According to a legend, a man named Nicolas Flamel had manufactured a Philosopher's Stone, and thus gained eternal life. Would the cursed stone haunt his life forever?

"Mr. Elric?"

Edward looked up to see the two old gentlemen rather puzzled, and realized that he had grimaced at his thoughts. He forced a vague smile on his lips.

"Did someone say something about a breakfast?" Edward ventured.

"Ah, of course!" Mr. Flamel broke into action with a warm smile on his face. He moved to Edward's left side in order to support him. Professor Dumbledore took position on right side and together the old men managed to assist Edward through the door and down the corridor into a cosy kitchen, where Mrs. Flamel was busy with breakfast.

Edward sighed with relief once they helped him into a chair by the kitchen table. He didn't think he had ever felt more like a cripple, as he did now, helped by two men who looked old enough to need help themselves. His automail felt stranger still. He didn't like it one bit – being stuck in a strange country, at the mercy of the hospitality of complete strangers and practically immobile. A temptation to try out a transmutation rose in his mind, but he dismissed it as idiotic. Alchemy hadn't worked in Germany, why would it work here? And even if it did work, it would hardly be wise to reveal such a thing. After all he knew nothing of this people.

A loud bang interrupted Edward's thoughts and nearly made him out of his seat. Mrs. Flamel smiled sheepishly at him from across the room, while the old men where busy trying to fish what appeared to be a tea pot from under the table. The floor was soaked with what Edward supposed was tea.

"Oh dear, Perenelle. I'm terribly sorry, but I'm afraid we broke it," Mr. Flamel emerged from under the table with the remains of the tea pot in his hands.

"It's alright dear, you know I can just- uh um- Would you like some orange juice instead, Mr. Elric? We got it from the supermarket, you know," Perenelle said obviously flustered turning to a strange white cupboard before Edward had time to answer. Professor Dumbledore busied himself by wiping the floor and looking like a man who tries very hard to look like nothing out of ordinary had happened, while Mr. Flamel shot anxious looks at his wife wringing his beard in his hands.

"Here you go, dear." Mrs. Flamel offered Edward a glass of orange juice. "Mind if I call you Edward, dear?" she said, sitting in a chair next to Edward.

"Uh, sure," Edward replied sipping his juice. Mrs. Flamel beamed at him and began a slightly one sided conversation about something called 'a supermarket' and how they had everything now days. In the background Edward could hear Mr. Flamel saying to Dumbledore in a low voice: "I'm too old for this Albus, can't you have him at –" the rest of the sentence was cut off by Mrs. Flamel saying:

"So Edward, how did you end up at our cellar?"

* * *

//AN: Hi there people! This is my first ever fanfic. The main reason I'm writing this is that I'm trying to improve my skills as a writer and my English (which, if you haven't guessed yet, is not my first language). And I just love reading HP x FMA crossovers, so I decided to give a go at writing one myself.

I wasn't going to upload more than the first chapter today, but as I had this finished too, I might as well upload it now.

I'd like to take this opportunity (because if I don't I'll forget all about it) to point out that I do not own Harry Potter or the Fullmetal Alchemist (a small Edward Elric figurine hardly counts). If I would, I'd probably have something better to do than write fanfics. Although the idea of J.K. Rowling writing fanfics on her own books is kind of hilarious… Also, this story is somewhat inspired by my favourite HPxFMA stories, Endless Moment and Mr. Elric, both by maboroshi-hime.


	3. Chapter 3

"Ah, um," was all Edward managed to utter as an intense silence followed Mrs. Flamel's words. Keeping his eyes on the glass of juice in his hand, Edward's thoughts raced from one possible explanation to another. Mr. Flamel seemed rather harmless, but there was something about the Dumbledore fellow, that made him hesitate to bend the truth too much.

Then again, he was entirely sure himself of what exactly had happened. It was possible these people knew something he didn't; after all they had seen him cross. Although just the fact that they _had_ seen him cross was rather unnerving. Sure, Dumbledore had claimed to have been surprised by his sudden appearance, but they just didn't seem surprised _enough_. The only explanation to that was, Edward though, that either they were past senility or _they had seen something like that before_. And just what was it Mrs. Flamel had meant to say about the broken tea pot? Why change the subject so abruptly, if all she was going to do was glue the pot back together? Was it possible…?

"Go on, dear," Mrs. Flamel interrupted once again, beaming benevolently at him. Edward gave her a nervous smile, running his left hand through his unbraided hair.

"Well, um. There's this Gate," he began. They had already heard him talking about a gate so that much was safe. Well, as safe as any of this could possible be.

"Yes, you mentioned that before. Didn't you say this Gate possibly affected those metal limbs of yours somehow?" Dumbledore cut in. Edward frowned. He hadn't said as much, although that was what he had meant. Whatever this man was, senile was definitely not one of his attributes.

"Yes, that's what I think. They don't work like they're supposed to," Edward said, directing his attention to Dumbledore.

"So what exactly is this Gate of yours? I take it allows you to travel from one place to another?" the professor eyed him keenly.

"You might say that," Edward replied in careful tones. Dumbledore nodded, eyes thoughtful.

"Mr. Elric, as there's hardly a point in beating around a bush as they say, I'll go straight to the point. What do you know about alchemy?"

The question got Edward completely off-guard.

"That's the old fairytale magic of changing lead into gold, right?" he said with a nervous laughter, silently hating himself for saying something like that about alchemy.

"Not quite so, Mr. Elric," Mr. Flamel cut in. "You see, alchemy is more like a science. Magic has hardly anything to do with it…" his voice trailed off as Dumbledore coughed meaningly.

"I'm sure Mr.Elric knows that much. The problem here is that, he knows we know something, and we know he knows something, but we can not tell him what we know, until we know what he knows and vice versa. In other words, this is a trust issue; he doesn't trust us and we don't trust him," Dumbledore summed the situation. Mr. Flamel frowned, and Mrs. Flamel looked disapproving.

"What nonsense is this, Albus? Of course we can trust Edward! Such a handsome young man," she smiled fondly at Edward, who blushed lightly at the last comment and wondered what on Earth did his looks had to do with how trustworthy he was.

"Oh Nelle, nonsense yourself! What do his looks have to do with any of this?" Mr. Flamel exclaimed exasperatedly, clearly reading Edwards thoughts on the matter. Mrs. Flamel scowled at him, but her expression softened quickly.

"Well, just look him dear. How could anyone with such nice eyes be a liar?

"You see, Edward dear, we're wizards – well of course I'm a witch. So would you like some toast or porridge with your orange juice?" Mrs. Flamel beamed like a small and wrinkly sun. Edward blinked, going over the words in his head. Wizards? Judging by the fact that Mr. Flamel was apparently trying to pull out his beard, while breathing in small huffs and puffs and moaning "Oh, Nelle, you goose," and even Dumbledore looked rather stricken, Edward was fairly certain that either the old men had just lost all hope on Mrs. Flamel's sanity or she was in fact telling the truth. Truth being, Edward thought wryly, that these people were all stark raving mad.

"So how about it?" Mrs. Flamel gave Edward a small nudge.

"Huh?"

"Toast or porridge? Or would you like both?"

"Um, toast sounds nice."

* * *

//AN:

Now, I'll explain a few things here that I should've explained earlier (please bear with me, I have the memory of goldfish XD ).

This story takes place after the anime series and the movie of FMA and book 1 and 6 of Harry Potter. These first chapters take place during the first book, but there's going to be a time shift after the next chapter. After that it's going to be book 6 with some changes.

So where's Al?

I'm sorry, but he's not going to be here. I wanted to write about an adult Ed at Hogwarts, and I couldn't fit Al in the story. Think of it like this: according to some theory alternate universes come into being whenever someone makes a choice. Well, the universe of this story was born when Al decided to hop in the weird ass flying rocket thing after Ed. Or in this case, didn't make the choice. So Al is safe at Amestris, and what's important for this story, Ed knows Al's safe at the home world. Though I bet Al's just trying to find a new way to bring nii-san home, but that isn't relevant to this story.

Does that make any sense to you?

Hmm.. I'm pretty sure this was all. If you have any other questions about the story I'd more than happy to answer them (heck, I'm just surprised anyone has bothered to read this ramble). I promise things will get more interesting when they get the talking done – no wait, they don't really get all that interesting. Sorry, I'm just boring ;;


	4. Chapter 4

"Wizards, huh?" Ed said disbelievingly staring at the half-burned butter soaked excuse for a toast Mrs. Flamel had presented him a moment ago. Mr. Flamel, who had opted for porridge, gave him a pitying look and quickly whispered "You don't really have to eat it, she wont notice anyway" across the table.

Dumbledore gulped his porridge down with a huge glass of milk, which made Edward eye him suspiciously.

"Well, I suppose there is no point in hiding that," he said then with a small sigh and meaning look directed at Mrs. Flamel, who just smiled and said "I can make pancakes too, you know," to no-one in particular.

"You've got to be kidding me?" Edward blurted out before he managed to stop himself. "You actually mean you can perform magic? You're not in league with those Thule Society nutters, are you?" he continued, suddenly wary. If they were, he'd get out of there even if he had to crawl. That was once group of people he had most certainly had more than enough of.

Dumbledore looked rather puzzled at Edwards exclamation.

"Thule Society? My boy, I don't think that society has even existed in the last fifty years."

Edward blinked.

"But I just met them. They were the ones who opened the Gate." This whole situation made even less sense with every passing moment. Dumbledore frowned slightly and looked at Mr. Flamel, who muttered:

"I suppose it's possible that you didn't only cross space, but time too… I've never heard of anything like that. I wonder how it happened, makes me almost feel I had more time for proper research…"

"Well," said Dumbledore. "I might not know how this Gate works, or much else on the matter, but I can most certainly assure you that we have absolutely nothing to do with the Thule Society." A twinkle appeared in his eyes again. Edward nodded slowly.

"So what year is this?"

"1892, dear" Mrs. Flamel answered the question and gave Edward's hand a small pat. Edward blinked at her.

"Nelle, 1992, not 1892. You always get your centuries confused," Mr. Flamel pointed out and received a fond smile from his wife.

"Oh, that's right dear."

1992? That was 69 years after he had left Germany. The thought made him feel slightly dizzy. A thousand questions came to mind. If this was real, and not some strange dream, there was so much he needed to know…

"I suppose I should explain my previous question about alchemy," Dumbledore said abruptly. Edward snapped back to focus, scolding himself in his mind. This was no time to let his mind wander.

"You see," the old man continued, pushing his half-moon glasses to a better position on his crooked nose. "Before you appeared so suddenly, Nicolas and I were in the act of destroying a very strong alchemical object. Only it didn't go quite as we had predicted.

"Well, that much is obvious, after all we most certainly didn't expect you, but there was something else too. Nicolas had just started to prepare the object when it suddenly pulsed with a bright blinding light. When the light faded again, there where these strange symbols covering every wall of the room we were in. Nicolas has told me that these symbols where a highly sophisticated form of alchemy. And after that, the light pulsed again and when it faded, you were there. Now, I'd like to ask you again, what do you know of alchemy?"

Edward stared at the old man, processing the information. Had the Gate he destroyed and this object those men had destroyed somehow reacted with each other, pulling him to this time and place? But in order for that to happen, these two occurrences should've taken place at the same time. And how was that possible when he had destroyed the Gate 69 years ago, according to the year these people claimed to be living in. Unless of course this was yet another parallel universe. Or he had spent 69 years inside the Gate, but that was a thought he preferred not to pursue.

The question that was more pressing at the moment was could he trust these people?

"How about you prove me this magic of yours exists, and then I'll tell you what I know about alchemy?" he said finally. Dumbledore nodded slowly.

"Yes, I suppose we can do that."

* * *

In the end professor Dumbledore had to float almost every object in the kitchen up in the air, starting with Edward's juice glass and ending with Mrs. Flamel, turn the kitchen table into a piano, wardrobe, and a rather surprised sheep, and let Edward carefully examine his wand before the young man was satisfied, and even then Edward was almost certain there was some secret or trick to it. How could they turn one thing into another so easily, just with one flick of the wand? Why didn't they have to pay the price? Or change an inanimate object into a living being? He had to confess that the sheep had upset him, for some reason he even felt offended by it. Who could a table turn into a sheep?

"If you want more proof," Dumbledore panted, clearly exhausted by the demonstration he had put up. Edward felt a bit ashamed of himself for demanding such tasks from this old man. "Just look at yourself. When you appeared at the floor of the cellar room, you were covered in wounds. Like you had just been mauled by a wild animal."

Edward looked up from the wand in his hands, eyes wide. He had forgotten the blood. The memory of the floor and the stench of blood filled his mind, but he pushed it aside.

"I fixed you," Mrs. Flamel told him, beaming. "I used to be a nurse, you know." Edward gave her a vague smile. Apart from the automail acting up, he was fine now. Could this magic even cure wounds?

"Now, if you'd be so kind, Mr. Elric, and answer the question?" Dumbledore said with a steadier breath. Edward looked at his hands, not knowing were to begin. He _owed_ the answer to these people; after all they had answered his. But how could he explain it? Mr. Flamel appeared to have some knowledge in alchemy, and he supposed Dumbledore must know something too. And he didn't even know if his alchemy worked here. After all it hadn't worked in Germany.

"Where I come from," he began after a long pause. "Alchemy is a strict science that works in three steps; analysis, decomposition and reconstruction. Alchemists abide by the rule of equivalent exchange – in order to get something, you must give something first. In that sense it differs from your magic, as far as I can see, you receive results without paying the price…" Edward's voice trailed off. Mr. Flamel was nodding and professor Dumbledore looked thoughtful.

"Are you an alchemist, Mr. Elric?" Dumbledore asked then, startling Edward.

"I was," he replied finally.

"You were?"

"Well, I wasn't able to use alchemy in Germany. And if I can't use alchemy, I can't really be an alchemist, can I?"

Dumbledore nodded at Edward's explanation.

"I take it you're not really from Germany yourself?" he asked, giving Edward a keen look over the half-moon lenses. Edward shook his head slowly.

"No."

Dumbledore looked at him with a questioning look on his face, clearly waiting for him to continue. Edward hesitated. How much of his secrets was he willing to give away?

"Originally I come from a country called Amestris. I worked there as an alchemist," he left it at that. Maybe he would tell them about his life, but not just yet. He's head felt heavy with everything he had learned in the past few hours. He just wanted to close his eyes for a moment.

"Are you alright, dear? You seem tired?" Mrs. Flamel said suddenly, with a surprisingly sharp look in her eyes. Edward gave her a small smile.

"Maybe you should get some sleep? After all, you were badly injured, and it has hardly been two day since I healed the wounds. You really should get some rest."

Two days? I was out for two days? Edward rubbed his neck. Ugh, this really was too much. At least in Germany, there had been that bastard of a father to help him adjust. And later Alfons, Edward thought with a small pang. Alfons was dead now. As was Hohenheim.

Edward struggled to his feet with some difficulty. It felt like the automail was pulling him down. His head was spinning.

"I think…" he began before a darkness surged up from the floor to surround him. The last thing he saw was Mrs. Flamel saying something, stepping forward with worried look on her face. After that everything went black.

* * *

//AN:

I know I said there'd be a time shift after this chapter, but I think I'll have to write yet another chapter before that. Sorry about all the talking, but I thought it would be best to get the exlaining out of the way. I promise there'll be a little more action once we get to the Hogwarts part.

On Mrs. Flamel; sorry about making her such a goose, but you see, Mrs. Flamel is my deus ex machine. Without her they'd never get past the point of whether to trust each other. Also, she's modelled after my own grandmother, who unfortunately has Alzheimer. Mrs. Flamel here's just naturally ditzy.

Have a nice weekend everybody, and a big thank you to everyone who has bothered to review. It's so much fun to know that, even if it's just a few people, someone has actually bothered to read my boring little story 

I'll update again on Monday, by for now!


	5. Chapter 5

"I don't know what's wrong with him. The wounds have healed just fine, but his fever is going up, and there's nothing I can do about it," Mrs. Flamel said with a heavy sigh, stepping back from the side of Edward's bed. "I know you two would rather keep his presence here a secret until we know more about him, but we have to get him to St. Mungo's."

Professor Dumbledore leaned closer to the bed, pushing his glasses up on the nose. Young Elric was certainly not looking good. His face was pale as the sheets he laid on, save for two dark spots under his eyes. A thin film of sweat covered his face and glued his bangs to his forehead. Even as close as he was standing, Dumbledore could barely make out the sound of his breathing.

"I have to agree with you, Perenelle. Nicolas, please contact the hospital and tell them we're coming," the old man said, straightening his back. Mr. Flamel left the room with a quick nod, and Dumbledore turned to face Mrs. Flamel.

"I know you're hardly as ditzy as you like to let on, Perenelle dear. Would you like to tell my just why exactly do you trust this boy so easily?"

"Well, my Sixth Sense has never been wrong, you know," Mrs. Flamel replied with a smile and a wink as she fished a small object about the size and shape of a pocket watch from her apron pocket. Dumbledore leaned closer to take a better look at it.

"A Sixth Sense? Oh my, I really haven't seen one of those in ages… So what does it say about young Elric?"

"Well, at the moment he's 'Harmless', but I suppose that just because he's unconscious, but before it said 'Extraordinary'," Mrs. Flamel said smiling happily. Dumbledore turned to look at Edward.

"You do realize that that's not necessarily a good thing, don't you?" he said then.

"Oh, I know that. But I don't need a Sixth Sense to know this boy is not evil."

* * *

It had been three days since they had left Edward at St. Mungo's, and they had been half way through breakfast at the Leaky Cauldron when an owl had arrived with news of the Flamels' unexpected guest. 

"Tell me again what the note said, Albus," Mrs. Flamel demanded as they made their way to the hospital, ignoring the strange looks their old-fashioned muggle clothing received.

"You're more than happy to have the letter, if you wish to read it, Perenelle," Dumbledore replied halting in front of an old red-brick department store.

"Oh no, my eyes aren't what they used to be. Just tell me what it said," Mrs. Flamel said waving her hand in a commanding manner. Mr. Flamel sighed as Dumbledore turned to speak to an unattractive dummy in the front window of the store.

"Merlin's Beard, Nelle! Stop pestering Albus!" Mr. Flamel chided his wife, who stuck her tongue out to him. "Besides, we're already there, you can ask them yourself."

"Very well, I will!" Mrs. Flamel exclaimed and stormed through the store window and straight to the Welcome Witch.

"We're here to see our Edward!" she proclaimed pointing her wand to the plump blond witch who covered behind her desk clearly shocked.

"Nelle! Mind your manners! And since when did he become _our Edward_ anyway?" Mr. Flamel protested and tried to snatch her wand away.

"We're here to see Mr. Elric, first name Edward," professor Dumbledore stepped forward, giving the poor witch a commiserative smile while the Flamels argued on in the background.

"Oh yes," the Welcome Witch replied with a slightly shaky smile. "Healer Thyme told us to expect you. He's at the Fourth Floor, ward 48."

Healer Thyme, presumably forewarned by the Welcome Witch was waiting them on the Fourth Floor. She was a stern looking witch with silver grey hair and piercing eyes.

"Professor Dumbledore, Mr. and Mrs. Flamel, please step this way. I'd like to have a word with you first," she said, leading way to a small office, filled with piles of books and parchment and curious instruments.

"What's wrong with our Edward? Is he awake yet?" Mrs. Flamel shot out as soon as Healer Thyme had closed the office door behind them.

"Oh yes, he's very much awake," Healer Thyme replied sitting behind the cluttered desk and motioning them to take chairs. Mrs. Flamel promptly refused to sit down.

"So why can't we see him now?" she demanded. Mr. Flamel rolled his eyes.

"Well, there's a few things I'd like to ask you first, if you don't mind, and explain something about Mr. Elric's condition, if you'll let me."

"Go on," Mrs. Flamel urged her, deciding to take a seat after all.

"The note you send said there was something unusual about Mr. Elric?" Dumbledore stepped in.

"Unusual indeed," Healer Thyme said, picking up a roll of parchment from a pile in front of her. With a tap of her wand it rolled open.

"You see, this here is a chart of the periphal nervous system," she said pointing at the diagram outlining a human figure. "These lines here, spreading from the spinal cord all over the body are the nerves. The chart shows how the nerves should normally appear. Of course," she said, tapping the chart and making the lines in the figures right arm and left leg disappear. "This is what Mr. Elric's nerves are supposed to look like, considering his strange appendages. However," here she tapped the chart again; this time more than half of the lines on the entire body disappeared. "These are the nerves Mr. Elric has at the moment."

"Oh dear," breathed Mrs. Flamel. "That's not good."

"You can say that again."

"Have you told this to Mr. Elric? You said he was awake, right?" Dumbledore asked. Healer Thyme gave him a curt nod.

"I did. His response was rather peculiar, if I might say so. 'So that's what the Gate took,' he said, 'I wonder what I got from it?' I don't think he realized I heard him, for when I asked him to repeat himself, he claimed he hadn't said anything. That was one of the things I'd like to ask from you. You're his grandparents, aren't you, Mr. Flamel, Mrs. Flamel?"

"Well, more like great-grandparents," Mrs. Flamel replied happily.

"Aha. You see, we couldn't find Mr. Elric from our medical records. We need to know where he has received medical attention before, judging by his limbs he must've needed some. Also, he claims to be eighteen years old, but as he doesn't seem to have any identification with him, we haven't been able to confirm that," Healer Thyme pulled out a half-filled card that had Edward's name on top of it and sat waiting with a quill in her hand.

"Well, Edward has been living in Germany for a long time; he must've seen a Healer there. And if he says he is eighteen, then I'm sure that's how old he is," Mrs. Flamel beamed. Healer Thyme gave her a suspicious look, but scribbled something on the card anyway.

"I see. He just seems much younger," she said curtly. Mrs. Flamel nodded with a fond smile.

"It's because he's so short. Poor boy, he just doesn't eat enough. He didn't even touch the toast I made him."

"Uh-um. So do you have any idea what this Gate business is? We need to know this because, even though we _can_ grow back the missing nerves, it's better to know what happened to them in the first place. Also, we need to know if Mr. Elric is going to stay in England or go back to Germany, because he's going to need some surveillance for some years after we grow the nerves back, to see that they are working properly."

"I'm sorry, we can't help you about the Gate. And it might be best to ask about Mr. Elric's plans directly from himself," Dumbledore began when Mrs. Flamel cut him off.

"What do you mean, see if they are working properly? Do you mean there's a chance they might not?" she asked sharply. Healer Thyme primmed her lips.

"There's always a chance, Mrs. Flamel. Messing with nerves is a tricky business at best," she replied patting her silver hair. "Besides, we have explained the situation to Mr. Elric, and I can assure you he is full aware ---"

"NO! NO! NO! NO! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU?!! NO MEANS NO! NO! GET IT OFF ME!"

All three visitors turned to the door at one as Healer Thyme let out a heavy sigh and got up.

"Was that our Edward?" Mrs. Flamel asked. The Healer replied with a short nod and an "Excuse me," as she pushed past them into the corridor.

"I WILL NOT TOUCH THAT! NO! DO YOU HEAR ME?!! NO!"

Healer Thyme made her way quickly down the corridor, muttering something they couldn't quite make out under her breath. Cries and moans were starting to emit from rooms lining the corridor.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN I NEED IT TO GROW UP?!!! ARE YOU IMPLYING I'M SHORT?!! I'M NOT SHORT, I'M STILL GROWING!!! I DON'T NEED THAT FILTHY LIQUID!! NO –AAAaarrgh" the shouting died down to a moan of pain as Healer Thyme swung open the second to last door on the right side of the corridor.

"Margerie, Annelore, get back to your wards at once! Agnes, explain yourself!" Thyme barked, taking in the scene in one quick glance. Two of the three young women in lime-green robes hurried off before Healer Thyme had even snapped her mouth shut, while the last one shot anxious looks behind them, clearly wanting to flee as well. Edward was sitting on a bed shaking slightly and holding his head with a grimace of pain on his face. Healer Thyme stepped to his side, casting a spell on him with a quick flick of her wand. Seeing Edward fall back to his pillow as sleep took him over, she turned to poor Agnes, who had backed to corner with a frightened expression on her face, and for some odd reason a glass of milk on her hands.

"What have I told you about Mr. Elric?" Healer Thyme snapped at the girl, receiving an unwanted back up from Mrs. Flamel, who proceeded to prod the girl with her wand, muttering something about our Edward and toads.

"You told us not to disturb Mr. Elric," Agnes managed to say, lifting the glass of milk like a protective shield. Mrs. Flamel gave her a menacing glare.

"Then why where you here, Agnes? And for Merlin's sake, what were those two geese doing here? And why are you holding that glass of milk?" Healer Thyme snapped. Poor Agnes broke down in tears and sobbed an apology. Thyme's expression softened a little.

"Just because Mr. Elric an attractive young man doesn't mean you're allowed to pester him with your idiocy like some deranged fan club. Especially with the condition he has. You may go now, Agnes, but rest assured we will talk of this later. And make sure your friends understand they are not welcome on my ward as long as Mr. Edward stays here."

Agnes hurried of wiping tears from her eyes and muttering apologies. Healer Thyme sighed heavily.

"It's been like this for two days now. We just cannot get those silly girls to understand that although he might seem energetic, Mr. Elric is indeed very sick at the moment. You can stay with him now if you like to. _Somnium_ should wear off him in a few minutes. Please check with me again before you leave," she said, taking her exit with a curt nod to each of them.

Edward woke up a little while later, seeming exhausted.

"I can turn those girls into toads, if you'd like to, Edward dear," Mrs. Flamel suggested after Edward told them the Trainee Healers kept visiting him. Edward gave the suggestion some thought, but decided against it.

"Nah, I can manage," he assured Mrs. Flamel, who looked doubtful but let the matter be for now.

"How are they treating you here? Are you getting enough to eat?" she wanted to know, while Mr. Flamel and Dumbledore seemed content with the old copies of Witch Weekly they found from Edward's bedside table.

"It's alright. All I do is sleep anyway, and I can do that anywhere. Although some weird guy called Lockroy or something keeps popping in and trying to give me his autograph." For some reason this got a small chuckle from Dumbledore. They didn't stay long after that – well, that is to say they didn't stay longer than it took for Dumbledore and Mr. Flamel to convince Mrs. Flamel that Edward was not going to die over night, and they could indeed come back the next day.

* * *

In the end it took three weeks to grow back the missing nerves. They had told him it was going to be painful, but Edward was still surprised by the sheer agony. It was just like when the automail was connected to his nerves, but instead of a quick stab of pain, the growing went on for hours. But he knew it had been worth it when he finally was able to move out of bed on his own.

They kept him in the hospital for two more weeks after the nerves were restored, to see they were working as they should, but after that they would've had to tie him down to keep him there any longer.

"I'm sick of hospital food," Edward said, when Healer Thyme tried to convince him to stay yet another week. "Besides, there's nothing wrong with me anymore," he added, giving her a grin, that made the prim Healer blush a little despite her years, and stretching his arms. And, he added in his mind, it felt good to have his own clothes on again. The hospital had had trouble finding him a robe that fits, and five weeks of wearing something that was apparently designed for a woman was five weeks too many.

"So, Edward, what are you going to do now?" professor Dumbledore asked the young man as they were sitting in the Leaky Cauldron, sipping Butter Beers in celebration of Edward's recovery.

Edward hesitated a little before answering.

"Well, I've been thinking that I'd get a job. After all, I need to repay Mr. and Mrs. Flamel for taking care of the hospital bills…" his voice trailed off. The trouble was, he had no idea where to start. Everything he knew of the ordinary world, the muggle world as these people called it, was outdated by fifty years or more. The first time he saw the cars on the streets of London had definitely been a shock. And he knew hardly anything of the magical world, apart from what little he'd had time to learn during the past few weeks.

Lost in his thoughts Edward failed to notice the meaning looks Mr. and Mrs. Flamel changed.

"Well, Edward. Nelle and I were thinking that, if you'd like to, you could come and live with us," Mr. Flamel raised his hand as Edward tried to protest. "Just let me finish, boy. We are going to need some help making certain arrangements, and it will only be temporary as Merlin knows how many years we have left, but you could help us with these arrangements and work your dept off. So what do you say?" Mr. Flamel looked at him expectantly, while Mrs. Flamel seemed to be trying to convince him by using telepathy, judging from the intensity of her stare.

"Yes." Edward replied with a small smile. "Yes, I'll accept you offer."

* * *

//AN:

Ahhahah.. Sorry, I missed Monday by 20 minutes… This turned out a lot longer than I thought it would, but I want to move on to the Hogwarts part next chapter, so I had to get this all out of the way.

I hope this chapter made any sense, I'm kind of tired at the moment, and don't have time to read it through as carefully as I should. Also, I hope this wasn't as boring as the previous chapters…

And lastly, a BIG thank you to everyone who's given me reviews 3 I really appreciate them all. Special thanks to Renneh, Harryswoman and fairmon10 

I'll probably update someday this week, but I can't make any promises (since I can't seem to keep them anyway : ).

Anyway, hope you liked it. Sorry for rambling, and sorry it's so boring – I'll try to make the next chapters have a little more action.


	6. Chapter 6

It was shortly after midnight when Professor Dumbledore appeared outside a ramshackle house called The Burrow, accompanied by a thin young man with unruly black hair and a pair of spectacles on his nose.

As they entered the building, a young witch, identified by Dumbledore and his companion as Nymphadora Tonks, took her leave.

"Oh, Professor, I almost forgot," she said, halting mid step. "There was this short blond fellow asking for you at the Leaky Cauldron earlier today. Tom didn't tell him anything, but I thought it would be best to let you know."

Dumbledore looked slightly worried.

"Did he give his name?"

"Hmm, yeah. I think it was Enric or Edric, or something of the sort. I think he's staying at the Cauldron if you wish to see him yourself." With that, she disappeared. Dumbledore nodded to himself, eyes thoughtful.

"Do you know that person?" a plump witch with an anxious expression on her kindly face asked Dumbledore. "Is it good news or bad?"

Dumbledore gave her a little, slightly sad smile.

"I'm afraid it's a bit of both, Molly. The bad news being that an old friend must have passed on from this world. The good however is that we just might have two new teachers instead of one. Now, I'm afraid I must be on my way. It seems that my night is going to be even busier than I thought. Molly, always your servant. Harry, take care of yourself."

* * *

Edward sat deep in his thoughts, staring at the empty glass of firewhiskey in his hand. He contemplated ordering another one, but he really shouldn't drink at all. Especially considering the last time he did, he ended up spending three weeks in St. Mungo's with nerve inflammation. Firewhiskey was good, but not good enough to face the wrath of Healer Thyme for it. 

It had been four years now, since he came to this strange world. The past years had been… _interesting._ Never in his life he would've thought that when he finally settled now for a bit of quiet living, he'd be doing so in a completely alien world while taking care of two extremely old people. His temperament was just not suited for tending the elderly. Or for quite living for that matter.

Even in Germany he had spend most of his time travelling from one place to another. And even more so before that. It felt like he had spent most of his life looking for something. First it was the Philosopher's Stone, and after that a way home. It was strange, having that drive taken out of him. It felt like he no longer had a purpose for living, especially now when the Flamels were both gone.

Of course he still wanted to get home. But after last time… He wasn't sure if he could risk it. Besides, now he knew Al had his body back. Yes, he thought, letting out a long sigh. It was enough to know Al was safe.

And Al was probably a lot safer without him. What had he ever done to his little brother, except taken him from one danger to another? He sighed again, rubbing his eyes. That was another reason why he shouldn't be drinking. He always got too damn emotional. Next thing he'd know he'd be pining over Winry… Hell, a few more and he'd be pining over the bastard colonel. The funny thing was he couldn't even remember anymore just why he had hated that bastard. Except it wasn't funny at all. He wanted to remember everything. Every last detail. Because what really kept him up at night was the fear that some day he wouldn't remember what his brother had looked like.

"Edward?" a familiar voice from behind his back startled him out of his thoughts. He turned slowly, with a grimace on his face.

"About the time you showed up, old man," Edward said with a scowl breaking into a grin. He surprised himself by actually being happy to see Dumbledore. Of course, that might be just because the man was the last familiar person he had left in this world.

"I figured these people would let you know I was here even though they refused to tell _me_ anything."

Dumbledore smiled, and sat next to him nodding to the bald toothless bartender.

"How long have you been in England, Edward?" the old man asked after he received his drink, sherry, if Edward wasn't mistaken.

"Just got here this morning."

"I'm sorry I missed the funeral."

Ed shook his head, staring at the glass in his hands.

"There wasn't all that much to miss. Mr Flamel didn't want us to make a huge fuss over it. Really, there was just me and that Mallory person, you know Flamels' attorney.

"Besides, I think he felt everyone had said goodbye to him too at…" Edwards's voice trailed off. He hung his head to let the bangs fall to cover his face.

"At Perenelle's funeral? Yes, I suppose you're right." Dumbledore said with a small sigh, sipping his sherry. Edward didn't dare to look at the old man, though he was _sure_ there was a hint of laughter in his voice.

Mrs Flamel's funeral had turned into an awkward scene when Edward had collapsed in a weeping fit, nearly fainted and managed to tumble and fall in the grave on top of Mrs Flamel's coffin. In the end Mr Flamel had to take him by the hand and walk him away from the graveyard. Edward vaguely remembered sobbing something about Mother and Alfons and Hughes and even about his father all the way back to the Flamel house. Embarrassing didn't even come close to describing the situation.

"Edward, everyone has the right to grieve for their lost loved ones the way they see fit," Dumbledore seemed to see straight into his thoughts.

"I'm just not very good at funerals," Edward muttered to his hands, face red. The last time he had drunk had been after Mrs Flamel's funeral.

"Anyway, I have something for you," he said changing the subject and reaching for a small envelope in his coat pocket.

"Mr Flamel wanted you to have this," he said, pushing the envelope to Dumbledore, who took it with his left hand. Edward frowned, seeing his withered right hand.

"What's wrong with your hand?"

Dumbledore gave him a small smile, adjusting his glasses.

"It's nothing to worry about," he dismissed the question by opening the envelope and fishing a small key from inside.

"It's a key to a vault at Gringotts," Edward explained. "It's mostly his notes on the Philosopher's Stone, but there's some other stuff too."

Dumbledore nodded.

"Given your history, I would've thought you might have wanted to keep those notes." It wasn't a question, but Dumbledore had managed to make it sound like one. Edward shook his head. It hadn't taken him long to realize that the Philosopher's Stone in this world, and the one in his were very different from each other. For one thing, the process of making it was completely different. Mr Flamel had been most upset when Edward had demanded to know whether he had sacrificed human lives to gain the Stone, and Mrs Flamel had refused to talk to him for full fifteen minutes for even suggesting such thing.

"No," he said finally. "Once I heard about the stone, I thought I might be able to use it to go home, but I don't think it would've worked that way. The stone in my world was used to amplify alchemist's power. The one Mr Flamel made seemed to have a completely different use." Of course, when he first heard they had _destroyed_ the stone he had been somewhat upset. Alright, he had been _very _upset. But it had been just a reflex. After spending so much time chasing the Stone, it was only natural for him to be upset.

"You haven't given up on finding a way home, have you?" Dumbledore asked, looking at Edward keenly over his half-moon spectacles. The younger man just shrugged, unwilling to discuss the matter. The question reflected his earlier thoughts too well.

"What do you plan to do next? I'd imagine the Flamel's arrangements are already taken care of," Dumbledore asked then, choosing not to press the issue.

"I really don't know. I imagine I'll have to find a job now," Edward answered truthfully, turning the empty glass in his hands. It was easy to imagine getting a job, but it was a different matter altogether to actually get one. After all, the only real work experience he had was from the military. The military of another country – no, another _world_. Somehow he just didn't quite see the Ministry of Magic hiring him. Especially now, when the whole wizarding world was having a panic attack over What's-His-Name.

"Well," Dumbledore began, sipping his sherry casually. "You could always come and teach alchemy at Hogwarts."

Edward's head snapped up to face the old man.

"Are you kidding me?" he asked carefully. Dumbledore shook his head, twinkle in his eyes. "I don't think so," Edward said gruffly looking down at his hands again.

It had taken him three whole months to muster up the courage to try alchemy. Of course, in the end it had been a pure reflex, to try and save Mrs Flamel from falling down the stairs. _But it had worked_. He had spend the rest of the day grinning like and idiot and transmuting everything just to enjoy the feeling again. But to teach alchemy? He just didn't have the patience for that! Al on the other hand, Edward mused, Al would make a great teacher. Who knows? Maybe he was a great teacher.

"I think you'd make an excellent teacher, Edward," Dumbledore said quietly, making Edward glance up again.

"Why'd you think that?"

"Well, you are highly dedicated to your art, and you know it thoroughly. But more importantly, I think it would be very important for our students to learn to defend themselves without a wand if a need should arise. And considering the time we're living, the need is all too likely to arise," Dumbledore replied, eyes serious. Edward just stared at him.

"Very well. I suggest you'll take a room here for the night. I understand Nicolas left you some money? Good, good. Please reconsider my suggestion. I must hurry off now, the night is short and there is still too much to do, but I'll be back in the morning. Maybe we'll breakfast together, and you'll tell me your answer then?" Dumbledore said, getting up. He tossed a few coins at the barkeeper, and with a nod and smile to Edward turned to walk to the door.

Just when Dumbledore reached the door he heard a voice from behind.

"I'll do it."

* * *

AN: 

Ahahaha.. sorry about the Flamel's. And sorry about the incident with Mrs Flamel's funeral – my sense of humour is kind of morbid..

Anyway, this was the time shift I was talking about earlier. Ed is now 22 years old. Hogwarts will happen in the next chapter.

Oh well. Hope you liked this chapter, and a BIG thank you for the reviews – those really make my day!

I'll update again next week. Until then, happy holidays everyone!


	7. Chapter 7

I ain't dead yet!

I'm really really sorry for disappearing for so long, and then dropping this story like this. I'm thankful to all the people who've read it, and especially to those who've left me such kind reviews!

While there are several reasons for me to drop this story, for one thing there has been so much going on in my personal life, I simply haven't had time to write anything, but the biggest one was probably the fact that adter chapter 6 I realised I had no idea where this story was going. I actually have four or five different versions of chapter 7 written up, and they all, quite frankly, suck pretty bad. I got Ed up to Hogwarts, but then what? What was he going to do there? I had no idea.

I understand this easily happens to un-experienced writers, and trust me, I plan on learning from this experience.

Well. The point of this rambling apology is this:  
If anyone out there has an idea where this story could go from here, feel free to write your own version!  
If you do, I'd very much like to read it ^^

That's about it. I'm sorry, and I hope you don't all hate me now!


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